New York City Hero
by AGleefulEnding
Summary: Santana Lopez is a detective with the case to catch and identify the city 'superman'. Little does Santana know that she won't be the one catching, but the one falling.
1. Prologue

Story: (currently) "New York City Hero"

Character Pairing: Brittany/Santana

All rights reserved to Fox and the creators of Glee.

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><p><strong>Prologue ~ Santana's POV<strong>

"So I see you closed the Draskin case, Miss Lopez." The disembodied voice managing to hold large amounts of power and pride as it flows from the speaker phone. "That was quicker than expected."

"Well, when you've got nothing better to do than catch a man alleged of stealing city corner trash cans, stuff gets done pretty fast." I reply smoothly. Leaning back in my suede leather chair with a classic black fedora tipped down my face, I allow myself a smug grin. It had been a far larger case than what I portrayed, but I was never one to outright brag in the office.

"Mhm, hopefully the city'll just learn to bolt 'em down this time. Can't see why it wasn't done in the first place, really." I can't help but divulge in my well known eye roll, I mean really, was he honestly this angry about rubbish bins? My boss mutters on for a few more minutes about the importance of recycling and proper trash collection while I zone out before he finally says something of interest: "Anyhow, we've got bigger things to get to the bottom of, Miss Lopez, though I'm sure you already know that."

_ Wait; there are things more important than clean city streets?_ I groan and pull my hand roughly over my face, catching the fedora and taking it off on the way. _How the hell was my boss ever the best detective around? He can't even find the tie he's wearing._

"I'm sure I am aware of that, there's forever a new crook on the loose, but I can always use a little more specific reminding. Got a certain case you want me to crack?" I'm hoping for a straight answer, no dilly-dallying, but of course…

"Right you are my dear, never a time without crime in a city. I suppose that's one of its defining characteristics in fact, besides the geographical parts and whatnot. Never mind, what was I talking about again? Oh yes, I've gotten a call about a new development concerning the ensured safety of locals through the means of an unidentified person. Or to be blunt, we've got a New York City superhero, it would seem."

I chew thoughtfully on the inside of my cheek for a few moments before I tentatively ask:

"Have we got pictures and reliable sources, or is this a community story?"

"David has been collecting all the evidence he can the past few days, and it's a lot to go off of. He's got many solid accounts and fairly clear photos considering the usual grainy captures. 'Course the most recent he's picked up was a few days ago, but we're hoping the Robin Hood will perform again soon."

"So he's stealing from the rich and giving to the poor? Robbing the lawyers in Manhattan and handing it off to street thugs in the Bronx, or what?"

"You're wrong in a few ways there, Miss Lopez. Firstly, they're not the literal Robin Hood, but rather more a superman or batman, no stealing being done. Secondly, they've been found operating all over NYC, not any certain boroughs. And thirdly, 'he' is in fact a 'she'."

Now I'm sitting up with my heels on the floor, hands folding under my chin as I mull over what I've been told.

"I don't quite see how this falls under my usual line of work, sir."

"It doesn't. There's no real bad guy to catch here, just some digging I'd like you to do. There's a good story here if we could identify and interview our heroine. You know, hopefully good enough to make front page or at least we could sell the information we learn to another paper."

I'm about to ask another practical question when my boss begins talking again.

"You'll have to work with Mr. Perone for a bit seeing as he's got all the information right now. I hope that won't be a problem."

"Of course not, sir, we're professionals." I'm furiously drumming my fingers on the edge of my desk while I take soothing breaths. David-frickin'-Perone. Damn son of a bitch _would_ find his way into this. Guess I'll just have to unmask this hero as soon as possible. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"Not really. Meet with David sometime today and try to work out the best course of action for finding our superwoman. Keep me posted, your pay will be the usual and you've got about a week before we're dropping it." And with that the phone goes dead and I'm left fuming in my office.

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><p>Sorry the Prologue was so monologue-heavy. I have to set the story first. Let me know if you think I should continue. I've got a a vague plan, but I want to make sure the idea hasn't been overused.<p>

~Gracie


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 ~ Brittany's POV**

I'm walking out of a Starbucks with my best friend Rachel when I hear the scream. My head snaps up and I'm scanning the surrounding area with sharp eyes as I zone in on a small cluster. They're across the street in front of a wedding dresses store and seem to be consoling the woman in the middle of their group. Without a second thought, I hand off my green tea Frappuccino to Rachel along with a few bags and dash across the, thankfully, empty street.

As I come up behind the curious mob I manage to catch some of their questioning:

"What happened?"

"Are you hurt?"

"Should I call 911?"

It's hard to catch what the woman is answering from where I stand, so I gently push my way closer to her.

"I was walking out of here and putting some receipts back in my purse when this bastard ran by and grabbed my dress!" I'm slightly shocked by the woman's cursing, but I daren't blame her at all for being angry. "He went that way but I was too shocked to chase him."

She finishes more quietly than she had started and with a guilty hang of the head, but I've heard enough to know I can help. Reaching my arm out, I tap her on the shoulder, urgency back in my motions.

"Ma'am, where exactly did he take off and what'd he look like?" I'm trying to catch her eyes but it takes a few seconds until she looks directly at me with disbelief. Probably thinks I only want to call the police about it; she's not anticipating me to personally catch the robber.

"He had a black tee shirt on with dark jeans and sunglasses. He ran down 30th Avenue to the right. I think the lady over there is already calling the police though, sweetie."

Disregarding the last part, I give her a breathy "Thanks" and take off down 30th.

Dodging shoppers isn't really a problem for me. It's only a Thursday afternoon and I'm rather athletic, sure footing comes naturally to me through my dance history and my speed from daily treadmill sessions at the gym. Within minutes I can spot a figure up ahead moving at a brisk pace. He isn't running no he wouldn't want to call attention, but he's clearly moving with a purpose. Oh, and he's got a white dress in a plastic covering bundled up under one arm. Bit of a giveaway really.

I slow down to a jog when I'm within two hundred feet of the crook and begin to check him out. Doesn't appear to be armed nor is he a mountain of muscle. This observance allows me a small smile and I continue until I'm right behind him

"Excuse me sir, may I ask where you bought that dress?" It's rather comical how high he jumps into the air when I shoot out my arm to snatch the covered fabric from his hold. "Yeah never mind, I think I've got it."

I spin on my heel and begin dashing back towards the bridal shop. No need to tempt fate and wait for the man to give chase or start a fight. In fact, I don't even slow my pace until I have to cross a side street. When I glance over my shoulder, he's nowhere to be found and I let out a laugh. Well, he didn't exactly give it his all, did he?

About ten minutes later and out of breath, I hand over the expensive fabric to the wonderstruck lady as her comrades look on in similar surprise. Still breathing hard, I manage to wheeze out:

"Here you, _whew huh_, here you go ma'am. Sorry it's wrinkled." I quickly leave the area, grabbing my no longer freezing drink from Rachel and giving her an apologetic smile.

"You're lucky I tolerate your little heroic moments, Brittany. You realize we've only got an hour to get ready for your dance recital now. Better hope Tina doesn't mind having to do your hair because you know I can't make a bun fast." Rachel says with exasperation as we take the stairs down to the subway. "Lord knows this would happen on the day you have an _important_ show to do. Pray those critics don't look too close at the bags under your eyes, Brittany!"

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><p>Wow, goodness guys! Thanks for all the story alerts and the review! Glad you're enjoying the story so far and I hope you continue to.<p>

My inspiration for this story comes from this Tumblr post of Heather Morris:

http:/-paroxysm[.]tumblr[.]com/post/16413746933


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 ~ Santana's POV**

"So, what are you gonna give me in exchange for the Hero Case info?" Perone asks, his eyes climbing my body with what he thinks is a seductive face but really just screams pervert.

"How about I don't _give_ you anything, but instead I let you _keep_ something. Like maybe, oh I don't know what little dignity you have left. Or possibly, allowing you to leave this office with balls in tack." I spit back. My eyes dip down to David's nether regions with obvious distaste and pity as I place my hands in my lap.  
>Legs crossed, back straight and eyes narrowed I know I'm looking pretty badass right now. <em>Yet,<em> this idiot still tries. Ugh, I really hate men when they're cocky. In women, it's incredibly attractive and – I'll admit – a total turn on, but with guys: I just want to kick them where it hurts.

_Whatever,_ I think as I purse my lips and clench my pen tighter,_ the quicker I get this done the quicker I get out._

"So, we've got no name, but multiple witness descriptions. There's no real pattern in location or event when it comes to her hero moments… in fact, have you found _any_ patterns?" I try to keep the snark out of my mouth, but really it would be kinda helpful to have some sort of clue so I can find this chick.

"Honestly, no. I know that she's not usually the first on scene. Typically, she seems to be alerted to the situation after it's gained some pedestrian attention, which makes me think that she's not _looking_ for the chances so much as _taking _them." David takes a deep breath, lets his eyes roll to the side for a second then continues. "And take them she does. Very well so far, I might add. I do believe she hasn't failed any attempts yet."

I've scribbled a few notes on my papers, but at this point I think I'd be better off simply walking the New York City streets and interviewing every blonde about her daily activities. Oh yeah, light hair is a similarity in every account. Apparently she's a little tall too as well as athletic. Also, she's "stunningly beautiful" in everyone's opinion. To be frank, I'm starting to think maybe we're dealing with an angel on earth. Too bad we haven't had any confirmations on wings, but I'll make sure to ask if I get to interview a witness sometime soon.

While I was lost in my head and only faintly listening to David basically repeat what little he did know over and over and over again, I out of the blue remembered a promise I'd made last week. I think something about the rumored fit body of our hero reminded me. My friend, Mike Chang, is a dancer and tonight's a big recital or something of his. I'm usually not at all for the sitting on your butt three hours, occasionally clapping, possibly stuck behind a tall person's head- kind of evening, but I did give my word. As such, it is with a cheeky grin that I check my designer watch and am pleased to see that now would be an opportune time to leave work.

"Well Perone, thanks for the help. If you could call it that…" I mumble the last part to myself as I gather the very few sheets of paper that actually contain information, stuff them in my briefcase haphazardly and replace my black fedora. "See ya around."

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><p>About two hours later I'm sitting in a dimmed auditorium, waiting for the lights to completely shut out and the music to start up. Luckily, I've no giants in front of me nor am I near any particularly talkative people. Just because I don't enjoy the amount of actual energy required to attend these things doesn't mean that once I'm here I'll sleep through the show. Quite the contrary, rather. I went to one of Mike's performances before with a friend of his, not my choice- trust me, and after the fact she had noted that my mouth had literally hung open for much of the show. Of course, this earned a smart remark going something along the lines of:<br>"Why were you looking? Hoping to slip a ruffie in my mouth, huh? I do imagine it's the only way you'd get me."  
>Not surprisingly, I haven't been to one of these things with her since then.<p>

I focus in on the stage as a lone violin begins to play in the orchestra pit whilst a solo ballerina moves forward. She's got long legs and blonde hair tightly wrapped against her head. Even with the extravagant makeup and mostly-concealed hair, I can tell she is a true beauty. Even though she hasn't properly started dancing yet, clearly waiting for a musical queue, her movements so far have been so deceivingly graceful. Her footsteps light and proceeding toe-first, posture perfect and shockingly still in her beginning pose on the floor. To put it simply, I'm already captivated by this dancer.

The violin is suddenly joined by the entire ensemble and the dancer snaps into action. While her movements are full of fluidity, there's a petite amount of strength and pressure under the surface which only makes her unique style all the more mysteriously deep.

I haven't even consciously noted the appearance of her fellow dancers until one lifts her high above his head in a fairly impressive move. Upon further inspection, and my returned brain (it seems to have left me for a bit earlier), I realize that was none other than Mike. He is always going on about being "the Crane" as his friends call him. Supposedly, but believably, it takes a lot of upper body strength to lift another dancer completely. To have a few in your company is a wonderful thing. Being of Asian heritage only amplifies the apt suiting of his nickname.

Ten seconds later and I've already redirected my attention back to the original, blonde dancer as she pirouettes across the stage with all the ease of water dripping from leaves. _Good lord, I'm getting mushy about this. Enough, Santana, focus on the big picture here._

Hard to believe an hour and a half later when the performers take their final bows and the heavy curtains cascade towards the stage floor that the show has reached its end. Maybe it's not so surprising that I sat with my mouth open at these things once. Secretly, I'm hoping I didn't this time because, _what if I drooled?_ I mean, I'm looking forward to going backstage under the pretense of congratulating Mike, _which I will do- calm down_, but also meeting the leggy blonde.

I let the crowds filter out through the main doors before I even begin my descent towards the stage and the doors leading to rooms beyond. They're marked with "Staff and Company Only", but that doesn't deter me one second. I place my hand on the door handle and give it a gentle tug and step into the brightly-lit, chaos-filled room.

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><p>Thanks again for all the story alerts and favorites! Also for the new Anon review- I <em>do<em> intend on continuing this story: no worries there!

I hope my little tale is as you all like, but if you want to make any suggestions or constructive critique- feel free to hit me up in review or Private Message :D

Again, inspiration is from this tumblr post: [www.]-paroxysm[.]tumblr[.]com/post/16413746933


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 ~ Santana's POV**

The first thing I see after my eyes adjust to the new lighting is the back of Mike's head. His short, black hair is slicked down with perspiration from his previous activity and I can see a lone, red rose already held in one hand by his side. Tina, Mike's long time girlfriend and (as of recently) fiancé, has already beat me to congratulating my friend profusely. I'm not a big romantic, _at least I hope I'm not-got to keep up the image ya' know_, but they're super adorable together. Like seriously, they just click and it's really obvious to anyone who even happens to glance their way.

It only takes me a few strides and minor crowd-weaving to approach the couple before I'm patting Mike on the arm and giving a small grin.

"You were great out there, Mike. That one lift was really something; I don't think you trembled at all!" I'm always giving him a bit of a hard time that one day in the future he'll go to pick up a ballerina and his arms'll turn to jelly and down she'll fall. Of course, that won't happen. I mean, yeah it's not my expertise, but I know that Mike is pretty damn strong for a guy with his physique. And let's not forget, he is "the Crane".

"Yeah well, maybe the steroids are working then?" He jokes back, pushing me lightly on the shoulder with a toothy grin. Tina's smiling as well but she rolls her eyes at our friendly antics as I go on to tease about Mike needing meds to do all his heavy-lifting.

We've exhausted the jokes on the subject around the same time that I catch a flash of golden hair out of the corner of my vision. Changing topics quickly, I ask Mike:

"Who's that one girl you lifted near the beginning? She's got blonde hair and, erm, long legs?"

"Well I don't know exactly. We kind of have a lot of blondes, if you didn't notice." My best friend replies with a haughty grin. He knows he's just not willing to tell me until I beg. Acknowledging this, I groan and dig my toe into the carpeted floor, folding my arms.

"Okay. She's pretty tall, long legs like I said, blonde hair- but of course it was up in a bun. She was the first person on stage at the start, so she's probably one of the better dancers..." I trail off as I run out of descriptions for the girl.

"Mhm. Nope, still not ringing any bells."

"Mike! I know you know!"

"Do I, Santana? I mean, even if I did, I don't think I'd tell you until you asked nicer."

"Tina, help me out here. Your boyfriend's being a jerk." I plead to the Asian girl as she merely chuckles. After she gets the giggle out, she whispers something in Mike's ear and all of sudden he's helping me out. Thank god for Tina.

"Okay. Her name is Brittany Pierce. She's been at this company for about six months maybe and yeah, she's pretty darn good. One of the best ballet dancers I've seen that can also do contemporary and a bunch of other styles. She's not super talkative, but when I have heard her speak she sounds kinda aloof, _but not in a bad way. _Just in the daydreamer kind of way, you know? I think she's in her head a lot, not that that's a bad thing. But if you were looking to get with her-"

"Look, I'm gonna cut you off right there, Chang-Chang. I was merely interested, okay?" I interrupt my friend with my usual snark, though Mike can see right through that.

"Right well, I can give you her cell number, unless you want to try yourself. In fact, she usually doesn't stay for the after party- so you might want to hurry, Lespez." Swatting him again, but this time with a little more force, I manage to mumble some choice words about what _he_ could try doing to _himself_ before I let my eyes search the room again. No sign of the blonde beauty, maybe she already left.

"Well if you're happy with Tina and your pride, I'm gonna head out now. I got a new case assigned today. Have you seen any heroes flying around lately?"

"What are you talking about, Santana?"

"Never mind then, I guess. Apparently there's some kind of heroine going around and performing godly feats on the New York streets. Hey, think I just found my report headline, ha." I kind of want to pat myself on the back for that one. I mean, quick thinker much?

"Can't say I witnessed any superwomen flying their invisible jets around last time I went to Times Square, but if I do- I'll make sure to let you know." He's shaking his head like I'm crazy, but I can't really blame him. I did make the story sound a bit more, okay a lot more, supernatural than it really is.

"Whatever, see you Saturday night like usual? Cool. Bye Tina!" Pretty much done with my social interactions for the day, I turn on my heel and take the dancer's direct exit outside.

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><p>I'm reasonably cold by the time I finally manage to get the keys to my BMW convertible out and unlock the door. It's kind of eerie in the city at night when it's actually quiet like this. You get used to the car honks and stereos and just the usual pedestrian symphony in the air that times like this are unsettling. Doesn't help that we're not in a super busy area to start with and all the activity that <strong>is<strong> taking place is doing so from where I just left, leaving the rest silent and empty.

A shiver runs down my spine as I turn the engine over and wait for the heater to warm my hands and face. I feel better now that there's some background noise and the headlights are illuminating the lot in front of me, but still pretty edgy.

However, I feel absolutely sick to my stomach when somebody taps on the passenger window.

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><p><strong>Dun dun dah! Ooh, cliffhanger! Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging for long =D Glad to see a few of you caught my <span>over and over and over again<span> Heya slip-in last chapter(; This chapter was a lot of dialogue as well, but I really want to establish the San-Mike relationship in contrast with how San'll be around Brittany once they meet officially. Which don't worry- will be very soon!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 ~ Santana's POV**

I grip the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands as I bite my lip and try to pretend I didn't hear the tap, checking my mirrors with false casualty. I can't ignore it the second time though as it's accompanied by a muffled- but sincere- voice:

"I'm really sorry for scaring you and asking this, but please, my car won't start and I really could use a ride home." She sounds so innocent and desperate that I find myself rolling down the passenger window so I can see and hear her better.

"Oh thank you, I really am sorry I know this is kind-of murderer behavior, but I really could use help." She's got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, but her hair is pulled back in a tight bun. Nevertheless, I can tell she is beautiful by her facial structure and beaming smile. She's wrapped in a large, black winter jacket going down to her thighs (which appear to be in tights, but it's hard to tell in the dark) with her breaths are creating little puffs in the wintery night air.

"Um yeah, sure, it's not a problem. Where do you live?" I ask as I unlock the door by reaching across the console to pull the handle twice. The woman slides into the car with a grace almost unreal and that's when it hits me. _This_ is the ballerina I was searching for earlier. _Wow, fate's funny tonight, huh?_

"Manhattan. My apartment's near the intersection of south Broadway and Canal." I nod and ease out of the parking lot, hearing her seatbelt click. In one part of my brain I'm constructing a roadmap to her place and in another part, well; I'm a little more frantic. Was she honestly the girl I was watching do all that dancing? How was it possible for her to hold her leg in the air as long as she did? How was she so pretty? Why was her voice so nice?

It's not until I almost miss a left turn that she speaks again.

"Thank you for giving me a ride. I bet it was pretty creepy when I tapped your window but I wasn't sure if there was a way to go about it _non-_creepy." The way she stresses the _non_ makes me give a little laugh and it's as if the car is suddenly a lot warmer.

"Well, I think you did okay. I mean, if you had thrown a hatchet at my window or jumped on top I think that might have seriously freaked me out and I doubt we'd be here now. So, thanks for not doing that I guess." Now it's her turn to give a laugh. Her giggle is such a cute one, that I decide to continue talking in the hopes of hearing it again.

"If I'm not wrong, doesn't Broadway run all the way into Chinatown? And doesn't Canal Street cross it kinda close down there? Do you eat Chinese a lot or…?"

"Ha-ha, I do live pretty close to Chinatown. And yeah, I eat it often enough that my favorite place has a dish named after me." I can't honestly tell if she's kidding or not. The next road I turn onto is Broadway and I frown a bit, knowing it's almost a straight shot now to her place.

"They seriously named a meal after you?"

"Yup! The family who runs the place, I've been friends with them since I was like, ten or something so we're pretty close. They've got a daughter my age so we went through all of middle and high school together."

"That's cool. Would I ever be able to actually find and eat at this place or..?"

"Yeah, it's called China Palace Buffet." I give the girl a blank face while stopped at a red light. "Oh, okay I see how that could, yeah, alright. Maybe we could go there together some time then? As a thanks for driving me home?"

I want to fist pump. Getting her to go with me there had been my intention ever since hearing that she frequented the restaurant often. Internally, I'm grinning like the kid who just got his turn on the playground swing, but on the outside I merely say:

"Sounds like a plan. My job's pretty flexible time-wise now that I've just got investigation orders. Does tomorrow lunchtime work for you?"

"I believe it does. If you don't mind me asking, what's your job?" She points to an apartment block a few hundred feet down Canal Street and I drive my BMW into an empty parking space, kill the engine and turn to look at her.

"_Technically, _I'm a journalist for The New York Times. _In actuality,_ I'm more a detective. I do the research and occasionally pass off the information for others to write. I mean, I've done some articles myself, but really I prefer the discovering and interviewing over the writing and publishing." She seems fairly impressed with my line of work if her widened eyes and eager smile are anything to go by. Under the new street lamp lighting, I can see that her hair is perfectly golden and her eyes really are the bluest I've ever to encounter.

"As you probably figured out, I'm a dancer in The Auckersfield Company troupe. I do some side work at a diner we passed earlier on Broadway, as well. Ugh, I feel so rude I still haven't said my name and haven't asked yours. I'm Brittany Pierce."

"Santana Lopez. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Brittany. Here, let me write down my cell and you can give me specific directions to the restaurant tomorrow around noon, okay?" I manage to find a spare bit of receipt in my purse and scrawl my number and name down. Brittany takes is with care and places it in her right coat pocket, grinning.

"I can't thank you enough, Santana, for giving me a ride. Lunch is on me tomorrow and I'll make sure to call you a bit before with directions. Thank you! Bye!" She slips out of my car and with only a wave and smile and enters her apartment building.

With a very satisfied sigh, I back my car out and leave her complex. Turns out that her house was twenty minutes out of the way, but I'd gladly drive an extra twenty in New York City traffic every day of my life if it meant seeing her again.

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><p><strong>Sacre' bleu! An update! My apologies for being a little late, I lost inspiration for a bit, but then I felt bad because I know there are people out there with this story on alert so: VOILA!, a new chapter =D<strong>


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 ~ Santana's POV**

Thoroughly frustrated, I throw the fifth dress from my closet onto my bed accompanied by a pained groan. Nothing seems good enough. _Guys are so lucky,_ I muse. _All they worry about is matching their shirt with their pants._

I flop down on my bed and turn my head to see the faithful alarm clock. _10:45AM. _I've taken my shower, shaved, spent extra time on my hair and even applied a coat of nail polish but I'm stuck at clothes. Oh screw it; it's a casual lunch together. Not even a lunch _date_ just a meal shared between two potential friends.

With the new mindset, I scan the outfits laid around me. I guess the dark skinny jeans and plain gray tee shirt will have to do. It really is a plain shirt, by the way. There's absolutely nothing special on it, no strange cut or anything, but somehow it just fits me so well and I love wearing it. Plus ya know, I've been told I look smoking in it, which is never a confidence-killer.

"Okay Lopez, just curl the hair a bit more and you're good to go." I prompt myself, heading for the bathroom to finalize my hairstyle.

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><p><em>Holy cannoli! I can't believe it's already eleven twenty-three! How did I possibly sleep in till 10:50 this morning? I haven't done that in years! <em>I think as I frantically paw through my drawers. All I've done so far is eat a super small (and rather late) breakfast consisting of dry cereal after I took a quick shower where I almost forgot to shave my legs. _Ugh, c'mon Brittany, get with the program!_

_I'm working on it, _yells back another part of my brain. I lay out a pair of light blue shorts that goes to mid-thigh with a cute black belt attached to it and a flowing gray, layered top. I put both on and tuck the bottom of part of the shirt into the shorts. I run to the bathroom I share with my roomie and apply a coat of red lipstick and not much else. I try not to ever go make up heavy no matter the occasion. I brush my hair once through quickly, leaving the natural waves to stay.

Whipping my cell out to call Santana, I shout to the roomie who's in the kitchen (if the clanking of utensils is any hint):

"I'm going out to lunch! Can you feed Lord Tubbington for me? Thanks! Bye Quinn!"

I barely catch her weary, but reassuring reply as the door clicks behind me and I'm heading for the elevator with my phone pressed to an ear.

"Hey, it's Brittany…"

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><p>I'm checking my e-mail when my cell starts to vibrate in my pocket whilst singing Pocketful of Sunshine. With a grin I pull the device out and lift it to my ear without even checking the caller I.D.<p>

"G'morning, Santana here."

"Hey, it's Brittany. You ready to jot down some directions?" I can hear a tiny amount of background music from wherever the girl is and I'm pretty sure it's the mindless stuff they play in elevators.

"Uh yeah, one sec let me get a pen." I head over to my bedside table and pick up a small notebook and blue pen, ready to write. "Okay, shoot."

"Alright, I'm not really sure how to tell _you_ how to get there, 'cause well, I don't know where _you_ are. BUT, the exact address for the place is…" She rattles off the building number and street name and the two shops which surround it. I ask her to repeat the number again and she does so in an almost sing-song voice. I'm grinning as I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder and grab my purse. Directions still in hand, I slide the black leather bag onto my shoulder, pick up my fedora on a whim, and head for the apartment door.

"Have you got it all?" Brittany asks and it sounds now like she's outside in the city. I guess she can walk to the restaurant as it's just down a few blocks.

"I think I've got everything." I repeat back the location to her and she hums in approval. I turn the key to my convertible and ease out of the lot, already consulting my interior map on which way to turn. "I should be there in about twenty."

"Awesome, I'll already be there so I'll grab us a table. See you there, Santana!" The line clicks off a second later and I'm glad for it because I can finally put the phone down and drive better, but I'm sad because well…it's Brittany. I could talk to her forever and we've only known each other since last night's impromptu carpool.

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><p><strong>Hola! Sorry about the long delay between updates, but I've already started on Chapter 6 so that should be out tomorrow (Monday) or Tuesday. And remember kiddies, <em>it's not a date it's a lunch together!<em> or at least, that's what San's telling herself ^.^ But is that what Britt thinks? :o**

**As always, thank you so much for the reviews and favorites and alerts! **


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 ~ Santana's POV**

The door's bells jingle as I enter the cozy Chinese restaurant, an anxious grin plastered on my face. The smells of many oriental dishes overwhelm my senses for a second and almost cause me to miss the flash of blonde hair moving near the back wall. The next thing I know, Brittany is waving me down frantically causing the Asian man standing next to her two-seater table to give a good- natured chuckle or two. My goofy expression grows as I float towards the table, probably overly excited for the impending lunch.

"Hey, glad you found your way here! I'm usually not very good with directions." The tall girl supplies, she's wearing shorts and a layered grey top which highlights her beautiful blue eyes perfectly. "Hope the traffic wasn't too bad."

"There was surprisingly barely any. And your directions were spot on, no need to worry Brittany." She blushes a little at my compliment then gestures toward the seat opposite her.

"Do you eat Chinese a lot or am I going to have to explain all the dishes?"

"I eat it often enough, I mean come on I **was** once a college student you know."

"Mhm, the Ramen diet doesn't count."

"Oh darn. Then I guess I'm but a noob here." It's only a second after the word slips past my lips that I want to perform a solid head palm. _Noob? Really, Santana? Did you honestly just say that? I mean, it's not even a proper term!_

However it seems Brittany never noticed my über geek slip up and instead goes on to call me "but a young grasshopper" and promises to "teach you the ways" as "any good Jedi master would teach his padawan". It'd be a lie to say I didn't crack up laughing once she was finished with her odd promise.

A few minutes later we order drinks, iced sweet tea for her and unsweetened for me (I prefer to add my own sugar) and the conversation switches to more traditional topics such as jobs.

"So, what detective work have you been doing lately? Unmasked any scary monsters this week?" It takes me a second to understand the second part of Brittany's question, but when I do, I'm forced to hold back an adoring look.

"I have to admit, the gang had it a lot easier than me; I've no Scooby Doo or clumsy Shaggy to bump into the clues for me." She nods with such seriousness that I'm left wondering if it's valid or not. "However, I'm currently not looking to find a monster on the loose so much as a hero."

"Why's that? Did they go to the dark side or something?" There's a worried look in her eyes that I want to make disappear quickly so I hastily supply:

"No, no. They haven't done anything wrong. I've been assigned to identify the hero so a thorough story can be written about them. Newspaper doesn't want to make it a headline of it till we can back it with enough facts and whatnot."

With this new information, the ballerina dancer noticeably relaxes but at the same time seems to be in deep thought. I'm about to ask what she's thinking when the same waiter as before comes to our table and asks for our orders again.

"Uh, I'll just have whatever you get Britt, unless you want me to try something else." She perks up at the nickname and glances down at the menu briefly before announcing her decision.

"I'll have the Kung Pao and she'll take a dish of Lemon Chicken. We'll split some wanton soup as well, please." The man smiles and takes our menus while promising to have the food here very soon. I don't doubt that for a second. Whenever I've gotten Chinese food, it's always fast service.

"This hero…" Brittany begins quietly, brow adorably furrowed in thought and tapping her fingernails rhythmically on the table top. "What exactly have they done so far?"

I hold up a finger as I finish swallowing some dry noodles that were left as an appetizer when we got our drinks. Once my chewing is complete and swallowed I answer.

"Here's what we know for sure: saving a little girl from being hit by a taxi in a crosswalk, returning a stolen wedding dress, and stopping muggers _twice_ in the night." I stop again to contemplate my next words. "There's other stuff too that so far has gone unexplained. Mostly because the people affected were too distracted to provide good witness account descriptions of the savior, but based on the acts and timings and the fact they were done in the deep city – which is a similarity between all the confirmed acts – I suspect there's more performed by our heroine as well."

"Oh, so you know it's a girl?" Brittany takes a sip of her drink but I can tell her curiosity is fairly peaked. "How come nobody has ever just asked her to wait till the police arrive or whatever?"

"A few reasons, really. If people can, they'll avoid interaction with the legal system as much as possible. Considering that they just had a local citizen solve their problem, free of charge and without harm to anyone, they're not keen on waiting who knows how long till the NYPD shows up. Makes sense really no matter how much harder it makes my job."

Brittany's only response to this is a hum of agreement. It looks like she's about to say something but a few moments later an arm balancing multiple food-laden plates lowers between us.

"Here's the Lemon chicken for the lovely lady and the Kung Pao for dear Brittany. Your soup will be out in a second." We both thank him and he grins at the both of us before returning to fetch the wanton soup, I presume.

The both of us tackle our meals fairly quickly, my dining accomplice occasionally asking if I like certain parts of the dish or not. My answers are always positive and I happily dunk some white rice in excess lemon sauce with zeal.

About thirty minutes later we're both done eating. Brittany pays the bill even though I protest saying she showed me a new restaurant, but she argues it makes up for the ride last night. I roll my eyes but eventually give in. The check comes back with two fortune cookies we eagerly open.

"Mine says: '_Remember the small things in life. There will be many in your near future. Your luck numbers are 8, 12, 37, and 52_.'"

"'_New changes in your life shed light on new opportunities. Don't be afraid to take risks as they often turn out good. Your lucky numbers are 3, 6, 17, and 48._'" I can't help the huge smile on my face as I realize just how accurate my fortune has been. And hey, 17's my lucky number actually.

"Wow, sounds like we have a lot of good things coming to us soon."

"I'd say so too, Britt, I'd say so too."

* * *

><p><strong>I apologize for the very long wait for this chapter. To make up for it, I made this one longer than the others so far ^.^ It's Spring Break here in FL now so hopefully I'll get another chapter or two done before school starts again =D Again, thank you for the reviews and favoritesalerts! They mean a lot and are often the thing that kicks my butt back to writing(: **

**So, will Brittany ever tell San that she's the hero or will Santana figure it out herself? Either way, how will Santana react? _Stay tuned!_**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 ~ Santana's POV**

"Hey, Lopez! I think I got something!"

"Kinda busy right now, _Perone_."

"Oh please, all you've been doing is filing your nails the last ten minutes. Just take a quick look at this." David insists with enthusiasm and excitedly gestures towards his laptop screen. I groan and remove myself from the leather couch I'd been occupying previous, smooth my skirt down once and walk behind Perone's desk to view the screen.

"Well, what is it? All I see is random, blurry people waiting to cross Tenth Avenue and 42nd."

"Yeah, which is pretty close to Times Square, might I add. But that's kinda irrelevant." I roll my eyes and let out a clearly unimpressed huff. _If it's irrelevant than why even bring it up? Does he not realize we're on a deadline here?_

"Right, Perone, you've got ten seconds to give me some actual facts afores I ends you, we clear?" He glares at me for a millisecond before submitting and instead opening a new window with a duck of his head and some swift mouse clicks. I'm tapping my fingers impatiently on his desk when he coughs quietly and vaguely points to the screen yet again.

"I added contrast and cropped the snapshot to what's actually important to us. If our previous street camera photos are anything to go off of, then I think we've got another sighting of Wonder Woman. This was only taken about eight minutes ago so there's a good chance she's within range still."

I pull the laptop to myself and lean closer. The woman has beautiful light hair back in a tight bun and appears to be carrying something rolled up under her arm. No doubt though, it looks like a match. Something tickles in the back of my brain but considering her face is still mostly turned from the view point I can't identify the strange notion and dismiss it a second later as investigator's intuition. The itch continues to linger though even when I cross the room with quick strides to grab my jacket, fedora, and Nikon D7000.

"Track the other corner cams and let me know if you pick her up again. Page me." And with that I'm out the door and on my way to the elevator.

* * *

><p>Rachel's bouncing ahead of me with a huge grin on her face. We just finished a lovely yoga session at the Central park and are heading over to our favorite Italian restaurant for some lunch.<p>

"I'll never understand how meditating can put you in such a bouncy mood when all it does is mellow me out."

"_Weeeeell Britt-y_, maybe you're not doing it right." I chuckle and shake my head. Secretly I love that Rachel is in such a good mood, she's been pretty down lately. I can't really put a finger on the reason, but I think it's got something to do with her current Broadway show coming to an end soon. But I mean; she's already got her next script so I think there's more to it than a final curtain call.

"Yeah, no, I don't think so. I think you're actually doing some stuff on the side, if ya catch my drift." I quirk an eyebrow in what's supposed to be a suggestive look but turns into a shocked one when I nearly run into a street lamp and begin to apologize. Flustered, I begin to awkwardly take my hair out of its tight bun while mumbling about the unfortunate placements of street lamps under my breath. Rachel gets another good laugh at me before I turn around and promptly bonk her on the head with my orange yoga mat.

"Oh chickie, you're lucky we're here already or I'd have to declare world war three on you right here, right now." The little diva places her fists on her hips and gives me a disapproving look before grinning and eagerly tugging the door open with a loud jingle.

_Ah,_ _nothing better than a huge waft of pasta when you've just exercised._ We get seated quickly and right by the windows at a table for two. Drinks ordered; Rachel launches into a synopsis of her newest play while I stack some sugar packets with varying levels of success on my placemat. It's not until the bread's already on the table and Rachel has reached the "absolutely pivotal" scene that the heavy door reopens with a chorus of bells. I'm still focused on my building until I hear a quiet "Brittany?" from behind.

* * *

><p><em>This is so pointless. Seriously.<em> _This ain't no village, we're in New York City! You can't just search for a person based on a black and white still that was taken twenty minutes ago and expect to find them. It's like a grown up version of Where's Waldo that involves paying cabbies and dodging mass crowds heading your way._

After a good ten more minutes of searching the packed pavements, I decide it's high time to call uncle and grab some lunch. I consider the Panera Bread across the street but opt for a more hole-in-the-wall place I've only ever eaten at once for a work date. It's called Luigi's in what couldn't be a more stereotypical Italian reference, but it's legit from what I remember.

I'm grabbing the door when I notice the couple dining in a window seat, _is that Brittany? Who's she with?_

There are chimes as I step in and skip the hostess setup and instead walk directly towards the window table. I'm caught between a grin and frown as I apprehensively call-out:

"Brittany?"

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, so I suck. Yeah I know. I neglected my author duties for a long time. I <span>do<span> profusely apologize, but that's not gonna get us much of anywhere, is it? So instead I'll try my best to get another chapter out by this coming Friday (the 11th) _or maybe even two_ ^.^**

**Yeah so, some coincidental meeting-up in this chapter and maybe Santana will finally put two and two together? **

**Oh and, unless somebody would like me to, I'm only going to label the first point of view in each chapter and during the rest it'll mostly be highlighted by a cut or just- hello -the fact that it's now somebody else's story, haha. But if somebody would like me to label each POV change: will & can do.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 ~ Brittany's POV**

"_Brittany?"_

"Santana, what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, was in the neighborhood, ya know. I'm sorry, if, I, uh, are you on a lunch date? 'Cause I can eat somewhere else if that's…yeah I can go. It's not a pro-"

"Santana! Call down, hun. This is just my friend Rachel; we're roommates." The Latina's eyes quickly cast themselves to my petite friend and begin a thinly-veiled scrutiny. She's in what must be considered her work clothes as, what I'm beginning to realize is, her signature fedora rests atop her head and her fashionable, noir pantsuit seems quite fitting to the role Investigator. I notice that Santana's completed her own private investigation of Rachel when her dark eyes land upon my face instead. I can't properly read them, but I think she approves.

"Well. I can still eat elsewhere if you'd like." I purse my lips and furrow my brow in response. San must really think I am on a date if she's willing to completely leave the establishment to offer me privacy. For a second I let that thought amuse me because, hah, I'm fairly sure Rachel and I would make a terrible couple. With her diva style and my simple preferences, yeah, I just don't see much of a click between the two of us.

"No, no. Actually, Rach, would you mind if Santana joined us?" Both the former and latter's eyebrows elevate but neither seems disagreeable.

"Of course that'd be fine, Britt. I always love meeting a new acquaintance and your friend here seems quite interesting." Rachel flashes her best Broadway smile at San and I have to hold back a chuckle. I wouldn't say they're a match made in heaven either.

With a small smile and a quick glance outside, Santana pulls up a chair from a nearby table and sits directly facing the window. I'm put to her left and I grin like a Cheshire cat.

"Nice to see you again so soon, San."

* * *

><p>"Crazy how in such a big city you still can run in to people, huh." She removes her fedora to place on the ground beside her and places a camera bag off her shoulder and next to that. Smoothing her head for an unseen case of hat hair, she gestures to my menu silently.<p>

"We already ordered drinks and the food but they're still cooking, I think, so if you're fast…" Santana simply nods her head and scans the entrées warmly. I, myself, take it as an opportunity to chance a look at Rachel who seems to take that as a cue to begin conversation.

"So Santana, is it, how do you know Brittany, if you don't mind my asking?" Without even lifting her eyes, the girl answers:

"We met by chance one night after a ballet. You see, Britt's car wouldn't work so I gave her a ride home." The last word is quieter than the rest but not too noticeably. I ponder internally on what she might unconsciously mean but out loud add;

"Yeah, Santana's super nice. If I was her I probably would have high tailed it out of that dark, scary parking lot and never even have checked the rear view mirror once till I got back to our flat." Rachel and San laugh a little and Rachel makes a joke at my expense about never checking the mirrors no matter the situation.

Small talk is made for another few minutes before a waiter comes by and notices our addition. He promptly asks for her order and fifteen minutes later there are three steaming dishes on our small table.

It's obvious we're quite pleased with the food when the talk ceases and only the clatter of forks and knives can be heard. Occasionally there's a beeping noise but seeing as both my friends ignore it, I follow suit and continue to eat. However, when the beeping escalates to a ring, Santana finally excuses herself from the table for just a moment to call her partner.

"I like her. She seems very smart, wonderfully dressed _and_ very pretty. Why haven't you mentioned her before, hm?" Rachel leans forward a bit, setting aside her vegan lasagna, and it's clear she intends to wrestle some answers out of me.

"When did you two meet? Did you really think it safe to get in her car? A lot of murders happen that way and kidnapping and all kinds of criminal things and Brittany, we've been over safety rules before, I don't know why I must remind you again. What did you just walk up and tap on her window? Did you at least check the backseat before getting in? Did you catch the license plate before entering, huh? And why does it seem like you've had more than just that interaction. Surely you wouldn't remember somebody that well if you'd only been in their car for one- incredibly stupid and reckless, might I add- drive?" Not even breaking a sweat, Rachel finishes her tirade and pauses to get a gulp of water. Fearing an imminent continuation, I jump in trying to sound as calm as possible, but stutter through my answers.

"Well, I told you it was after a ballet performance. Maybe a week ago, add a few days I guess, and I'm not _that_ stupid, Rachel. I didn't 'check the backseat', but I mean, I didn't just quirk a thumb and hop in a jacked-up pickup with three guys drinking booze. Gosh." Not having the vocal stamina that the starlet did, I had to take a few deep breaths.

It occurs to me that Santana could return any moment, and I'd really rather not have a hostile air about the table when she does. Deciding to just forfeit this round, I place both palms down on the tablecloth and stare at my half-eaten dish.

"I'm sorry I got in a car with a stranger. I don't think I was completely stupid, but I see why you're so angry. I won't do it again." My lips lift for a millisecond as I recount another tidbit in my head. "Oh and we have seen each other since. We had lunch together at the Chinese place, ya know the one. Anyways, I paid for her as thanks."

Rachel, almost with a smug air (she knows victory when she hears it), leans back in her seat. She continues her silent manner for another moment before suddenly dipping down towards her purse. I sit up myself with surprise and rotate my head around in case San's walked back in. Still safe, though it does look like her call might be ending soon.

"Brittany, if you're going to continue your little adventures with Miss Santana- oh I don't even know her last name-"

"Lopez."

"Right. With Miss Santana _Lopez_, then I insist you at least get her number and give her yours. A little planning can go a long way and if you continue as is then you'll only ever have subway dates and elevator chats." With a theatrical flourish, Rachel hands to me a small notepad and a fancy, purple and gold pen. "Try; please do _try_, to keep me informed of your future meetings. If you're going to be seeing her, the least you can do is be safe about it."

It'd be an understatement to say that I accept the proffered stationary tools without hesitance and shock. This is exactly something Rachel would do. A plot twist **and **a well laid plan. Sometimes I wonder if she really believes the world's just a stage.

"Oh wow, um, thanks Rach. Uh, will do. Oh look, San's coming back in now."

* * *

><p><strong>I was really tempted to just keep going but I think I'll upload Santana's return as a new chapter. I hope you like how Rachel's been done, trying to keep only a bit OOC and more canon with her.<strong>

**Sorry for the late upload, I had a previous version but it really didn't flow at all, too fake, so I rewrote the majority today and here it is! ^.^**

***spoiler alert! : they'll be some more Hero!Brittany very soon***


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 ~ Santana's POV**

"Sorry about that; my partner at work doesn't have much common sense. Apparently the only logical answer to all his problems is: _Call Santana._"

I pull my chair out and our little group goes back to eating presently. The simple spaghetti and meatballs I ordered is wonderful if not some of the best sauce I've ever had. I notice that Brittany seems unusually fidgety and keeps halting mid-bite. I haven't known her long but I can tell she's anxious about something.

Worried that I may have caused her apprehension, I ask:

"Is there something up, Brittany?"

"Oh, no, Santana, I just was wondering if maybe, erm, I could get your phone number again because- you see –I had it from before, you know. That time I gave you directions? But I didn't put it in my phone, only on the piece of paper you wrote it on and, and I uh, lost that. Yeah."

_Oh my god, she is so adorable. _I'm laughing as I hold my hand out to her.

"Okay, well how about I put it directly in your phone this time, okay?"

"Yes! Awesome; okay." The blonde retrieves her phone from her yoga pants and merely unlocks it before handing it over. It's a rather simple device. Not one of those new, fancy talk-back-to-you kinds or anything, but I feel it reflects the girl well in its Brittany-esque way. That and the unicorn background, I suppose.

It takes me minimal time to find her contacts and add my own information but I can feel her eyes on me as I do so. As I return the phone to its owner, her fingertips slide across my palm and I feel a blush rising.

"Thanks, San-tan."

"No problem, Britt-Britt."

And just like that we've got nicknames.

My cheeks still feel warm when Rachel's voice cuts in.

"Well, seems like we're all done here so I guess I'll just hail a waiter; if we're all set?" The petite women skates her gaze over the two of us with a scrutinizing, unidentifiable something in her eyes. I'm just starting to feel physically uncomfortable when my personal hero, Brittany, steps in.

"Okay Rachel, I think we're all good. Unless you want dessert, San?"

"No, I'm good, thanks. But you really should let me pay today seeing as you did last time."

"No way silly, that was thanks for driving my sorry butt home." Brittany playfully swats at my arm and I feel the pleasant warmth returning a little. "We'll just go Dutch this time; keep it easy."

My grin is all that's needed for agreement and a few moments later our diva has caught a waiter and in no less than thirty words asked for the receipt.

* * *

><p>"So, we should do this again..?" It's an open-ended invitation but I wonder if the dancer means just the two of us or our trio.<p>

"Sure, I'm probably free whenever as long as I get a few hours' notice." I push my camera bag strap higher onto my shoulder and adjust my hat to fit more tightly as its gotten a bit windy while we were dining. "So I guess I'll be seeing you again soon, _I hope_. It was nice meeting you, Rachel."

I've already turned around and taken a step before I feel a tug on my jacket sleeve and I turn back only to be engulfed in a tall mass. Brittany's arms encircle my back completely even with the shortness of the hug and I can't help but admire the harmonious way our bodies fit. She pulls back with a cute, but shy smile and mumbles something about calling me soon.

I'm grinning like a dork as I continue walking; feeling like I just won the New York marathon. Little did I know, but Rachel was watching the both of us with an amused yet pleased expression.

* * *

><p><strong>Ah derp, had to fit the cuteness in at the end. So this is a really short chapter, and San WAS going to put two and two together during it, but ugh, I'm being lame and putting off writing any angst that may bring about until later this week. I'm just feeling fluffy right now. (maybe it's got to do with the ice cream I'm eating?).<strong>

**Again though, thanks for all the story alerts and favorites! I'm going to make it a personal goal the get the next chapter out before or on this coming Friday and if I don't you have permission to bully me via PM until I do ^.^**


	11. Chapter 10

***warning for mild curse words and slight violence***

**Chapter 10 ~ Brittany's POV**

My foot slices through the air in a downward motion as my torso dips forward just as quickly. Arms out and eyes closed, I feel like I'm flying with the swelling music. As the walls vibrate with higher frequencies, the reds and blues flash in my mind; intermingling notes performing their own modern symphony. A swift directional change and my right fingers splay behind my back while my chin briefly lands upon my left upper arm, face tilted down. The beats ebb and lengthen as my graceful pirouettes become looser and calmer. When the prerecorded sounds cease to exist all I can hear is my shallow breathing and a sweet, sweet ringing in my ears; I'm finished.

Dance.

I couldn't go more than a few days without it. And lately I've been experiencing so many new elated feelings that the urge to throw myself into multiple fast track frenzies has been a record high.

I gulp in more air as I slowly extend a hand towards my head to undo my hair from its messy bun. Most of the locks had already escaped during my therapeutic exercise so it's not hard to remove the scrunchy. My eyelids feel so heavy yet my brain is finally lighter. I decide to give myself a few minutes rest when there's a knock on the studio door and seconds later I hear my best friend calling me.

"Good morning Brittany, I was not aware you'd be at the studio so early today. I called your apartment multiple times to see if you wished to procure coffee with me, but all I communicated with was a grouchy Quinn. You really ought to have her go to bed sooner or try a new sleep position; I fear her A.M. anger will only increase over the years."

Even though it causes me slight pain, I push myself off the floor and head towards my petite friend. Not wanting to engage in a sweaty hug, I simply reach for my water bottle and wave to the woman.

"I doubt there's any cure for Quinn's attitude besides tranquilizers." I chug a bit of my Gatorade and gesture to Rachel's purse. "I'll go for coffee, yeah, but I don't have any cash on me right now, _so_ you'll have to spot."

"Well while I am confident that I have told you many, many times the necessity of always keeping_ some_ money on your person at all times, I suppose I could 'spot you' just this once."

"Gee thanks, Rachel, you're the bestest friend ever." I chuckle to myself and grab all my belongings, which aren't more than a towel, car and apartment keys, and the bottle, before I follow the diva out the door. I lock it behind me as per management agreement.

"So Brittany, in reference to all the recent trips to the studio, is there something you wish to tell me?"

"Uh, no. Nope."

"Brittany."

"Just got the dancing bug a lot lately, ya know?" I shrug my shoulders while my eyes scan the brick face of the building. We reach our respective cars and I pop the trunk to deposit the towel Gatorade.

"Your car or mine?"

"While I recognize that you're merely avoiding the obvious implications I am sending right now, my answer to your question is: no car. We're walking, my dear, all the easier it will be to speak to you with." Rachel finishes her elaborated response in a nasally voice that I know is some Broadway reference, but I'm not sure to what exactly.

"Right, well good thing I like walking, I guess. And I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Brittany! Why are you so stubborn when it comes to these things!" The woman takes a second to collect herself while we continue our promenade. We manage to pass a few shops before she's ready to try again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You know I've no qualms with your fluctuating sexuality, Brittany, and I made it clear that I approve of Santana, so I don't see what's so hard about admitting your obvious crush on her."

I bite my lip and thank the gods when the smell of coffee beans meets my nose. _Aha, a sanctuary...maybe. But knowing Rach, a little caffeine will only make her more obnoxious about this whole ordeal._

After ordering our drinks, a green tea frappe for me and a Chai latte for her, we sit down on two adjacent, leather chairs. I get a few sips of mostly whip cream before she's at it again.

"You know, if you want me to help set up a date for you two or something, I can do that. It's no hassle, really. In fact, you should unofficially hire me as a sort of mingle-planner for you. I could be your personal dating service."

"Rachel. No."

"Oh come on. It's better than whatever you're currently doing." With a dismissive air, the starlet takes a quick sip of her Chai. "Besides, if I plan it, I can make it seem more happenstance than it is. Sort of like a blind date, but with sight."

I scrunch my face at Rachel's strange words and drink some more. I'm methodically poking hole in the crystallized, green liquid when she gives a final attempt.

"Look here, Brittany, if you don't schedule something by the time we get back to our cars, then _I_ will for you. No if, ands, or buts. I may or may not have gone through your phone the other day and procured a certain Miss Lopez's number and entered it into my own for such occasion." She's finished her beverage and starts to stand, collecting her purse and heading towards a small, black trash can. "So, get on that."

"_Raaaaaach." _I know I'm whining in public, but this is incredibly unfair. You can't just take over someone's life like this, seriously. I know my best friend means well, but I **was** going to get around to it soon. I just didn't have any good date ideas yet besides the over-done dinner and a movie thing. "Look, I don't even know if she likes me back yet, okay? So maybe I'm not ready to ask and get rejected, you know. Usually it's no sweet if I am, but I don't know, Santana's…different; special."

"It's: no _sweat_, Britt. And I get that. But that's why you need to make a move. You can't just let her go without at least trying a few times."

"Whatever I'll call her tonight."

"No, you'll call her now." She stomps her foot dramatically causing a few of the pedestrians on the sidewalk besides us to pause momentarily. "We're not walking any farther until you're on that phone and making plans for your lady-lady date."

"Ugh. O.k. sure, just hold on one second, god." I angrily grab my phone from inside my sports bra, having stuffed it there before our little trip but after my dance session. It takes me a few seconds to go through my contacts, but once I see her pretty, Spanish name my thumb instantly presses the call button and we're a-go.

Rachel and I move off to the side to lean against a small, alterations shop while the ringing tone coos into my ear.

"Hey."

"Hey, this is Brittany."

"Haha, I know Britts, I've got caller i.d."

"Oh." I bite my lip and can feel Rachel watching me intensely. With a quick eye roll I jump straight to it. "So I was thinking we should make plans to do something soon."

"O-okay. Like lunch again or something different? Maybe we could see that new Avengers movie; I've heard it's pretty good." There's a bit of muffled moving sounds in the background when Santana's done speaking but I ignore them as my brain flies quickly.

"Actually I was thinking something maybe a little more home-y. Like, I don't know. You can't really talk at the theater, yeah? Maybe we could have like, a movie night but at my place or something." Rachel leans back a bit, seemingly surprised. I face her slightly and see that she's cocked an eyebrow and is thoughtfully holding her chin.

"Well, that does sound a lot more 'home-y', as you put it, than the movies." A small giggle and a smiling voice. "Actually that sounds really great, Brittany. So when were you thinking?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Almost any night works for me." Pause. "Except Wednesday, I have a long practice that night."

"Okay, then how about Tuesday. Tuesday I've got absolutely no plans so far." Again with the muffled moving sounds but I can assume now it's probably to write this down somewhere. "So uh, I'm gonna need directions to your apartment."

"Right. How about I call you back when I get there? I'm out and about the city right now with Rachel." Said girl is currently typing something furiously into her own cellular device which causes my brow to furrow, but who knows with Rachel.

"Sounds good. Guess I'll hear from you soon then. Have fun in the city; bye Brittany!" I reply similarly and end the call with a sigh. "Are you happy now, Rach?"

"Ecstatic! Now let's get you to your car so you can call her again soon!"

I groan as the small diva tugs my arm. We've only taken a few steps again when I hear a nearby, angry shout. My head instantly whips up and I manage to catch Rachel's eye which is focused solely on my reactions. She knows I can't resist the urge to help someone, it's like it's in my blood.

There. Across the street are two young men circling each other. One seems to have a woman friend or girlfriend mostly behind him who is looking increasingly worried and a crowd is beginning to form. With barely a glance to my friend, I dash across the thankfully empty street and without hesitation approach the duo.

"Hey, hey guys. There's no need to fight or anything, okay?" I'm roughly shoved out of the way by the solo man and I can hear the girl telling me to be careful or to just _don't_.

"You wanna get lost, girly? This has nothing to do with you."

"Actually, good sir, ever since you became a threat on these streets, it _does _have to do with me." The other, still silent man has backed up a bit, seeing a new way this situation could pan out.

"Yeah bro, let's just let it go."

"Uh, how about 'no', _bro_." He actually spits on the ground and takes a step towards his opponent before I can step in. Without warning, the enraged man lifts a fist and wallops the other guy hard in the stomach.

I'm tackling him before I even know it. Next thing I feel is rough half-asphalt, half-cement scratching my body. With the luck of God, no cars were passing by just then but I scramble to pull us both back towards the sidewalk. I can hear Rachel shrieking my name. I've never actually had to physically deal with anybody so far except in explicit self defense.

I pull myself up and find that besides some cuts and bruised knees, I'm probably good to go. I consider outstretching my hand for the fallen man but I doubt he'd accept it so soon.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you start anything like that out here."

"And I'm sorry you're such a stupid whore and couldn't stay out of this. What the hell is your problem?" I blanche and my hands come up in defense. This isn't really how I expected this to go. But then again, since when do I ever plan ahead?

"Hey, don't call her that, bro. She's just trying to calm you down."

"Stop calling me bro and just fight me like a man!"

I gulp as the last to speak rises from the ground and pushes his sleeves up. Crap. The crowd around us suddenly gasps as one and I look closer to see that he's pulled something shiny out of his sagging, jeans pocket. Double crap.

"Whoa, bro! No need for that here." The sensible guy has one arm out to the side and back to keep his girl friend at bay and has one held in front of me for the same reason. "Look, we'll all just leave. Just, just put that away, man."

"Hell no. Nothin' I can do now that there's so many people asides end this." My adrenaline kicks in and just as the thug slices forward I push my protector aside to avoid the blade. Even without my force, the weapon would have missed him but now I'm the new target.

A sneer on his crazed face and he wildly stabs at my left shoulder area now, leaving all pretense of civility behind. I dodge again and swing my foot up to connect with his crotch. A howl and he's on his knees. A quick and accurately placed punch to the temple and he's out cold on the sidewalk.

My breathing is ragged as I feel familiar arms pull me back into the crowd and lead me away from the whole scene. My vision is fading around the edges and I'm barely processing any images besides those in my short term memory. In what feels like seconds later but is probably minutes, I feel my body being directed to sit on soft fabric and a seat belt clicked over me.

The car revs quietly and speeds out of the parking lot and onto a street I'm too out of to properly recognize past knowing it leads home. Rachel's eyes peer at me every two seconds in the rear view mirror but I'm too in my head to notice. I think she's talking to me, but all the words sound like they're far above me, on the surface and I'm sunk way down below.

My vision blurs again and almost goes completely black but I jerk back into my seat, blinking rapidly. A waterfall noise fills my head and this time when I see black that's the last thing to happen.

* * *

><p><strong>Shizz just got real, <span>bro.<span>**

**So that's the longer chapter, by request, and hey look! it's actually up on time! (at least for me, it's 10:24 Friday night, woop woop!)**

**So I hope this chapter is up to par and the pacing is okay. I don't want to just throw Britts into like cage fights or something to get her action, but it'd been a while since she performed any "super hero feats on the New York streets", as Santana would say, and it's kind of a necessary part of the story. **

**Up next? Maybe detective Lopez will be on the scene? Hm?**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 ~ Rachel's POV**

I lock the car and dash over to the apartment complex's entrance. With a jab, I hit the button labeled Room #414 and rock between my toes and heels waiting for a response. Seconds later I hear a very soft, feminine voice through the small speakers.

"_Hello? Who is it?"_

"Hi Quinn, it's Rachel, um, we have a bit of a problem. Do you think you could leave the door unlocked and come down here to help me? Brittany got into, well into a tussle, if you will, and now she's, erm, she's passed-out in the backseat of my Honda."

"_Oh, wow, okay. I can be down in five…She's not hurt, is she, Rach?"_

"No, no. Well, I don't think so. A tad bruised and scratched but nothing serious from what I saw." My right hand keeps spinning my key ring in circles and I have to use my left to halt the nervous habit.

"_Good, I'll be there soon, hold on."_

There's a second buzz and the connection clicks off_. Okay, alright. Quinn will be here any minute and she's a little bigger than me. We'll get Brittany to the elevator. Then we'll have her lay on the couch and, uh, help her; somehow. Oh Streisand, we'll figure it out._

I march back to the car and open the back door. Leaning over, I unclick the tall blonde's seatbelt and try to sit her up. That action alone proves to be a little tricky what with the girl being all dead weight currently. _Guess we'll have to wake her up somewhat to get her upstairs._ Cautiously, I tilt Brittany's head back and gently separate her left eyelids with two fingers. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, but apparently this is how you check for concussions and such, or at least, that's how it always is in the Soaps on TV.

"Okay Berry, what's the plan?"

"Oh great, you're here, Quinn. I suppose we should try to wake her up enough that she can maybe carry some of her own weight, as I think she'll be too much for the both of us entirely." One hand is on my hip while the other cups my chin. "Perhaps we should even call for more backup, would you mind if we asked Pu-"

"No, Rachel." My high school friend takes a deep breath and cuts her eyes over to me again. She nods to herself mostly as she assures me out loud, "We can do this. We don't need Puck or Finn or any of the boys. Right, Rach? Right."

I often worry about the things Quinn seems to be perpetually, internally battling. I've attempted many conversations concerning the various subjects a multitude of times, but she's never responded in a, well, kind manner. In fact, using the word 'responded' in itself may be a stretch as that would almost suggest progress has been made. Make no mistake there, because _dear Barbra_, I have never properly gotten through to Quinn.

"Hello; earth to Berry!" She snaps her fingers in front of my face and I blink in surprise. "Are we moving Britts or not?"

"Of course we are, Quinn. But I really think we ought to try to wake her first." She mutters some choice words under her breath while I lean in again to poke and prod the sleeping woman. "Brittany. Brittany honey, you have to wake up."

It's not until I'm rolling her face back and forth between my hands that her eyes open to slits and I can see a dulled-down blue beneath the lids. A bit more coaxing and she's trying to push herself off the seat.

"Rach, hm, Rach where…" The dancer trails off into a yawn and I worry she's falling back asleep. I squeeze both her hands simultaneously while tugging her out of the car.

"Come on Brittany, we just need to get up to the apartment and then you can sleep all you want. Okay?" She mumbles in reply and Quinn sidles up next to us to slip one of the taller girl's arms over her shoulder. I repeat the action on the other side and with minimal struggle we manage to get the heavier woman through the front doors and to the newly-renovated elevator.

We lean Brittany against the far left corner and Quinn presses the fourth floor button whilst the metal doors slide shut.

"Well, I think that went better than planned, actually."

* * *

><p>I wake up to the smell of chicken noodle soup. A small smile forms on my lips as my hand comes up to brush stray, blonde hairs from my face. I wince when a fingernail encounters what must be a cut on my eyebrow. That's strange. I don't remember cutting myself on anything lately. My eyes open and I notice Quinn watching me from our apartment's only piece of leather furniture: a comfy recliner.<p>

"Mhm. Good morning, Q." I cover a yawn behind my hand then run it through my hair from front to back. Arms stretching sideways and up I can feel more aches and I wonder if they're in any way connected to my weird eyebrow scratch.

"It's not morning, B. Do you know why you were sleeping?" Quinn's wearing a pretty serious face, and I worry for a second that I'm in trouble. Did I stay out clubbing too late last night and crash in the early hours on this couch? No, I went straight home after teaching my beginner's hip hop class.

"No." My mind considers a few more possibilities but each one can be quickly proved wrong and I resign to asking my roommate: "So, why **was** I sleeping?"

"_Oh, Brittany_." Instead of answering my question, the motherly girl moves to stand from her chair and disappears into the kitchen, out of sight from the couch. She returns about a minute later with a steaming bowl of soup and an eager Rachel trailing her. I sit up and wait until the latter has placed our only TV table in front of my spot on the sofa and taken the bowl from my roommate to place on it before attempting another question.

"Why are you still here, Rachel?" I hope that didn't come out mean. But I thought we had parted ways after our coffee chat yesterday. Or today. Now I can't remember when it was and I start to get a bad feeling in my gut. "Rachel…"

My two friends seem to be having some silent conversation between them, ignoring me, and all I can think to do is take a few slurps of my soup before making a face. The petite brunette notices and pauses from her non-verbal discussion to inform me that it's vegan. I groan but continue to eat the meal because, despite the chicken not actually beingreal, it still tastes somewhat okay.

"So, Brittany, what all did you do today?" Rachel's leaning forward into her hands with her elbows on knees and Quinn's pressing back into her chair again, lips pursed and eyes unreadable. The uneasy feeling starts up again in my stomach and I put my spoon down before tripping through a quiet sentence involving coffee maybe and dancing.

The two talk with their eyes once more as I finish the last of my meal. It actually was pretty tasty once I got over the texture of the non-chicken chicken.

"Okay, Britt, how about you go through your day since you woke up. Mind you, it's Monday today."

"I guess I can…well I woke up in my bed, not out here, this morning. Then I got dressed to go dance by myself at the studio for a bit. And I did, I did dance at the studio, maybe for an hour and a half. Then Rachel, you came and met me and asked if I wanted to go get some coffee down the block. So _we did_. We walked there and, um. I don't really remember…_oh_." My eyes widen as I fall back into the cushions. _Did I really? No. No, I couldn't have. I'd be in the hospital right now, wouldn't I? There's no way I could beat a man with, with a, with a knife?_

"You're safe and home and we can call you in sick for work tonight, yes? Is that alright, Brittany?" Rachel's voice breaks through my increasingly alarmed thoughts and it's all I can do to absently nod my head in response to whatever it is she's talking about. I see Quinn stand up again out of the corner of my eye as she walks over and grabs my hands in one of hers and sits down next to me. Her other hand reaches up to push some hair behind my ear and then soothingly rubs circles into my back. I feel myself nodding off again when she quietly suggests I go to my room to sleep this time.

Quinn guides me to the door and then lets me be. It's all I can do to change slowly into a sleep shirt and light sweat pants before I collapse, out cold, on top of the comforter.

* * *

><p><strong>Eep, longer delay than anticipated between the last chapter and this one. Sorry this installment was a bit of a filler, but I wanted to properly introduce Quinn and have some Rach-Quinn-Britt interaction. Don't worry, there'll be actual Brittana action in the next chapter!<strong>


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 ~ Santana's POV**

I bite my lip and glance for the thousandth time down at my phone. Not a single message. Not a single call. Not a single ring or buzz. It's Tuesday morning.

At first I had assumed that Brittany either a) got distracted, b) had more of a life than me and was just plain busy, or c) simply forgot to call back. However, as the minutes ticked by and became long, slow hours I started to feel both neglected and worried. What if Brittany didn't _want_ to call me? What if she wasn't really all that interested in me in the first place? Or worse, what if something had gone wrong?

The microwave in my apartment beeps and I groan, check my cell screen, groan again, and then shuffle to the kitchen. I'm too busy fretting over whether I should just call Britts or not that I grab the TV dinner without thinking. The black plastic is so hot on the bottom that I curse and drop the meal before I even fully feel the heat. _God damnit! _

"Well at least there's plenty more where that came from." I lazily announce to my empty apartment as I stick my hand in the freezer and grab the soiled food's twin. A few paper towels later and the tile floor is spotless once again. Great.

Despite making good enough wage to own a nicely-furbished, downtown New York apartment, drive a convertible, and be able to afford luxuries ranging from Netflix to Coach Purses; I eat convenience foods. My parents weren't ones to teach things like cooking or how to do laundry, they'd rather I just avoid a criminal life like my brother's. Beyond staying out of jail, Mami and Papi didn't and don't care what I'm doing or who I'm with. They've never really been apparent in my life. It's made for a few awkward scenes around other people's parents but it made me independent from the start and now I've got an expensive - albeit empty – apartment to show for it.

I peel back the plastic covering partway and place the new dish in the microwave, setting it for two minutes. _Maybe I should just call her. _My fingertips drum on the marble counter as I consider. Really the worst that could happen if I call is she cancels,_ right? Or maybe even if she forgot, she'll still be free? I mean, we weren't going to watch a movie till the evening and it's still only eleven-something in the morning so,…_

**BEEP BEEP BEEEEEP.**

Lift the cover, stir, put back in for another minute and a half.

"Oh screw this! I'm a grown woman; I can make a freakin' phone call!" I nearly bend the fork in my fist during my outburst. The microwave continues to hum as I hastily pick up the smart phone, scroll through the contacts and hit Call. _C'mon, I'm a Lopez. I can do this. I was raised in Lima Heights; this ain't nothin'._

_Ring…ring…...ring…_

"Hello?"

"Uh, hey, hi Brittany. It's me, Santana." That infernal microwave begins beeping so I quickly stab the End/Off button. "How are you?"

"Hi Santana! I'm great! Just finished a tough work out at the gym with Rachel. What's up?" She still sounds breathless, but obviously in a good mood. Not that I've ever really heard the blonde in a bad mood, now that I think about it.

"Oh I was just wondering if we were still on for that movie _da_-um, night. Movie night. Are we still..?" I clutch the phone between my left ear and shoulder while retrieving the blessedly cooler tray.

"Movie night? Oh man, I must have forgotten about that when,…I'm sorry, Santana! I never got back to you, _oh hold on real quick_." The line goes silent for moment then she's back. "Right, yes! We totally did have plans tonight, I'm so sorry I, well I hit my head the other day after we had lunch and certain things have been foggy since."

"How did you manage that?" My face scrunches up in surprise. Brittany's the graceful ballerina; I can't imagine she bumps her noggin often.

"Uh, ha, that's kinda a better story to tell in person, actually. You probably won't believe me, though." She gives this cute breathy laugh and then I practically hear her brain switch back to focus. "So you need my address, right?"

"Yes, please!"

"OK then get ready to write this down." About a minute later I've got all the details down to the color of her apartment door and we're hanging up with cheery goodbyes and see-you-soon's.

_Phew. Well that went a LOAD better than expected._

I finally dig into my instant turkey and potatoes lunch only to burn my tongue on the still hot gravy. I guess there are some things I'll never learn.

* * *

><p>"<em>San-tana's coming over, San-tana's coming over<em>!" I sing to my cat Lord Tubbington. "_We're gonna watch a mo-vie, we're gonna watch a mo-vie_!"

Lord T seems less than enthusiastic about my attitude and sulks off to hide under the TV set.

"Oh, you're right, Tubbs! We didn't decide on **what** movie!" Hands on my hips, I contemplate what I know of Santana. _She wouldn't be afraid of a horror film, but it might give off the wrong vibe for the night. Even though I bet she's a great cuddler. I mean she smells so good and probably wouldn't mind if I got scared and hid behind her. Hmm. She'd probably watch a romantic comedy but I doubt she'd be that into it. Or at least she'd never tell me if she was. Maybe an action flick? I think Quinn bought Avengers the other week…_

"_Qui-inn_!" I croon while heading towards my roommate's side of the apartment. Two knocks later and I hear a scratchy "Come in, Britts."

Quinn's got the covers all the way up to her face and her nose is a rosy red. There's a growing mountain of tissues on her bedside table along with bottle upon bottle of cold medication. The girl's hair is adorably tussled and I know that if I was anyone else she'd have refused entry.

"How do you feel?" I gently lay the back of my hand on her forehead and note that she's still warm but not as much as the last time I checked. "Do you need some water or something?"

"I'm okay, Britts. I still can't smell a thing and my hearings going in and out, but I think the fever's going down, so that's good." Quinn gives a pathetic sniffle while reaching for another tissue and I have to hold back an _aww_.

"That's awesome you're feeling better, Quinn-y." I hand her some more antibiotics and the remainder of her water before I continue. "So um, Santana- you remember her? – well she's coming over for a movie night and I was wondering if you ever got that funny superhero one. The _Hulk Smash_ and _hot spider chick_ one?"

Quinn gives a weary smile and gestures towards a bookcase farthest from the bed. Quinn reads a lot so every wall besides one has some variety of shelves holding novels of all sizes, but on this particular case she stacks miscellaneous items.

"It's called _Avengers_, Brittany." I grab the DVD case, check the inside and flash a huge smile as I close her door. "You're welcome!" She mumbles as I throw a quick thank you over my shoulder and scuttle back towards the main room.

_Okay. Movie: check. Location? _I cast a quick eye towards the modest flat screen and blue couch that sits across._ Check! Snacks? Uh…_

"Lord Tubbington, did you finish off those brownies? You know those weren't for you!" _Darn. Guess I'll have to bake something or stop by a store after my 3-5 o'clock salsa lesson. Oh well, it'll be worth it for San!_

I step back closer to the front door to survey the room at large. Besides a few newspapers and random magazines lying around, I'd say the apartment's looking pretty good.

_Well I guess now all I've got to do is entertain myself till seven-thirty and we're good._

* * *

><p><strong>Oh man so. Heh I kind of- no, not kind of - I completely bailed on you guys. I felt really bad and guilty for like 2 months straight and then I just forgot about the story until I read a Superhero!Santana fic and I got inspired again and so...I'm back. If you'll take me back, that is. But I hope you will. Especially with canon-Glee being as iffy as it is right now, I think the world could use some more Brittana happy fanfiction(=<strong>

**I won't make any specific promises for when the next update will be besides that it'll occur BEFORE Christmas day XX**

**Thanks for stickin' it out or if you're new to the story- hi! And of course, let me know any suggestions or errors you find. FF has changed it's uploading/editing process but I'll do my best to fix any mistakes**


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